


all of my wounds, they turned into gold

by fits_in_frames



Category: Heroes RPF
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-21
Updated: 2009-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrian's always teased him about his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of my wounds, they turned into gold

**Author's Note:**

> _i never knew a man could fall so far 'til i landed here_  
>  _where all of my wounds, they turned into gold when i kissed your hair_  
>  {ray lamontagne // hannah}  
> 
> 
> Written for Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme ([original comment](http://47-trek-47.livejournal.com/280938.html?thread=1761130#t1761130)).

Adrian's always teased him about his hair: when it was kind of long, when it was grossly long, when it was obscenely short, when it started to grow back. And he ran his fingers through it at every opportunity he got, scritched the back of his neck when it was close-cut. Milo tried to reciprocate, when Adrian's hair was long, but it was too thin to really be interesting. So he settled for the one-way affection. Didn't seem to bother Adrian, at least.

But now--now that they're sort-of together, now that he's got enough to tuck behind his ear--there's not a single mention of it. (They're not _really_ together, he tells himself, it's just A Thing. A Phase. A Break. He needs to get over Hayden and Adrian--Adrian just needs to be constantly touching people and Milo happens to be there most of the time. It's okay. It works.) So he doesn't bring it up, because it's stupid, really: they're fucking weekly at this point, it shouldn't bother him that he hasn't felt Adrian's hand at the back of his head for five months, two weeks and three days. It shouldn't. At all.

In fact, he almost forgets about it until that night he flies to New York and goes to Adrian's apartment, only half-expecting him to be there. He doesn't remember if they have the same breaks anymore. It's depressing, really.

Adrian, in fact, is there, and buzzes him after just hearing him say _hey it's me_ over the intercom. He gets pulled forward by the back of his neck, first into a little pecking kiss and then into the apartment itself, and he hopes, for a brief moment, that Adrian's hand will drift up. Subconsciously. Or whatever. But it doesn't.

They sit around for a little while, catching up on their lives and drinking cheap wine, until Adrian suggests they order in pizza. So they curl up together on the couch and eat and drink and watch TV until Milo passes out, snuggled down into Adrian's side. When he wakes up, it's to Adrian kissing his temple.

"'Mornin'," he slurs, even though it's clearly not morning yet. He's still a little drunk, so Milo forgives him.

He smiles up at him. "Hi."

And then it happens--Adrian smells his hair. Deeply. "God, I fucking love your hair," he sighs.

Milo's half-surprised, but he's also half-drunk, so it cancels out. He twists around, faces him. "I thought you might've forgotten."

Adrian grins wickedly, then grabs a fistful near the top of Milo's head. "Never."

Milo straddles him, hands on his collarbone, and it's only a heavy, breathy moment before Adrian tugs. The sensation ripples down his spine, and that's all the invitation him needs to lunge forward and kiss him, sloppily.

It's a strange game, a tango, perhaps, of pulling and pushing, lips and fingers, hips rocking against hips, and they're both just drunk enough that it all makes cosmic sense, that they are here, that this is happening, that Adrian _really_ likes pulling on Milo's hair. Hard. Right when there's a lull. Cosmic sense, definitely.

Milo eventually gets tired of the same-tasting flavor of Adrian's mouth, and snakes his hands under his t-shirt, pushing it up over his head, then pressing his mouth to Adrian's chest. He smells heady, like sweat and cotton and that cologne he wears on days when he doesn't feel like himself, and Milo wastes no time, licking and sucking and biting and all the while, Adrian's fingers curl against his scalp. The combination is more intoxicating than the alcohol in their bloodstreams. He trails down Adrian's body, moving himself onto the floor, and pulls the elastic waistband of Adrian's briefs down to free his half-hard cock. Adrian moans, tips his head back, tightens his grip. Milo licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, swirling his tongue at the head. Adrian approves of this and lets him know with a little twitch in his fingers. Milo proceeds to blow him, and gets rewarded with two hands grabbing at his hair, pulling and rubbing and finding erogenous zones Milo didn't even know existed on his body, palming his own cock through his boxers with a hand down his pants. He pulls off, and looks up, still teasing Adrian's cock and balls, writhing out from the grip of one hand and tugging away from the other without actually wanting Adrian to let go.

Without looking down, Adrian gasps, "Gonna--" and then, in the next breath, "Lemme do it--"

He doesn't have to complete the plea, Milo knows, so he positions himself just so, and jerks them both off at the same time. Milo comes first, quietly, in his own pants, and a minute later, Adrian's coming in hot streams all over his face, his neck, and his hair. Milo licks at his cheek, crawls up to show Adrian what he's done, but Adrian is, predictably, asleep. Milo chuckles a little, to himself, stands up, kisses Adrian's cheek, and as he pads off to the bathroom to take a shower, he thinks how he should probably cancel that appointment he made at the barber's last week.


End file.
